


Hiding Together

by laireshi



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, Extremis, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, On the Run, Protective Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 14:30:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13929018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: Steve and Tony are on the run. Steve has to take care of sick Tony while dealing with the fact that he's still more than a little mad at him about the Civil War.





	Hiding Together

**Author's Note:**

> For the Cap-IM Alphabet Challenge. My letter was T, for Tony and trouble.
> 
> This is just an excuse for hurt/comfort, but for some background: it takes place in an AU where Steve returns around Secret Invasion, Tony's still out of it because of the Skrull virus, and Steve helps him hide. 
> 
> Thanks for brainstorming and beta-reading to faite!
> 
> Also a fill for the "on the run" square on my bingo card.

Tony was shivering against Steve’s side, his skin pale and clammy even in the dim light. Steve pulled him closer with an arm he had wrapped around Tony’s shoulders, trying to do his best to keep him upright and walking in a straight line.

“I’m fine,” Tony whispered in a croaked voice, the lie so obvious it would be almost funny if it didn’t make Steve want to shake him.

“We’re almost there,” he said instead of commenting on Tony’s state, steering them towards the motel door.

“Go in,” Tony rasped out. “I’ll be okay for five minutes.”

He didn’t _look_ like he’d be okay. He looked like he was about to keel over. Steve didn’t want to let him out of his sight even for a second. But they could attract a bit too much attention, walking in together when Tony could barely stand, and Steve knew that at least for now they hadn’t been followed.

He didn’t _want_ to leave Tony.

He continued walking them towards the door, but Tony reached up to squeeze his hand. “I’ll be fine,” he repeated.

Steve hated this, hated that Tony was (probably) right, hated they were here in the first place.

He looked in through the glass door. The receptionist was busy with her mobile, not paying any attention to the outside. Steve sighed and deposited Tony against the wall next to the entry. “Shout if there’s a problem,” he said seriously.

Tony leant his head back, his breathing too strained for Steve’s liking.

Steve swallowed and walked inside. “Room for tonight,” he said, sliding cash over the desk. The receptionist glanced at him and nodded, then reached back and grabbed a key from the wall behind her. Steve tried not to look at the phone she was clutching in her other hand. She was probably just texting, not browsing news, but the risk was there. He was, officially, still dead, and Tony was convinced Osborn didn’t know about Steve’s return, so there shouldn’t be a warrant for his arrest. Still, interactions with civilians were better kept to a minimum.

If Steve were alone, he’d keep down, out of the cities, but Tony wasn’t in any shape for surviving in wilderness, and the SHIELD safehouses were all compromised.

Steve breathed a bit more easily when his fingers closed over the key. He went back outside.

He froze, his heart beating wildly. Tony wasn’t there. Steve _had known_ he shouldn’t have left him alone, it was his fault—

It only took him a few seconds to notice Tony was sitting instead of standing, almost invisible in the shadows. His hands were at his temples, his jaw tense.

“Hey,” Steve said softly. “Come here.”

Tony winced as Steve helped him to his feet. “It’s okay,” he lied again.

It wasn’t okay. Whatever virus the Skrulls had used to take Tony out was still in his system, messing up Extremis and leaving Tony almost helpless. Leaving Steve to take care of him when half of the time he still was mad enough about SHRA to want to punch Tony in the face.

Steve managed to get the door open without letting Tony go, and once inside, he made Tony sit on the bed. He threw his duffel bag on the floor and rummaged inside for a bottle of water before offering it to Tony.

Tony drank half of it. “Thanks,” he said. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He still looked in pain, but his breathing got more regular. Steve had already noticed the spikes of headaches were bad but short-timed.

Except, of course, they were more and more frequent, and Tony was running at least a low fever all the time now.

They wouldn’t be able to dodge Osborn for much longer this way.

Steve realised he’d made his hands into fists and forced himself to relax. He walked into the tiny bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face, then he wet a piece of cloth to take it back for Tony.

Tony was sitting right where Steve left him. He didn’t appear to have moved at all, but he was now staring into space, unseeing, his eyes black.

“Tony,” Steve said, only barely managing to keep his voice down.

Tony didn’t react, his face even paler by contrast with the blackness of his eyes and hair.

Steve shook him by his arm, and Tony flinched, rapidly coming back to the here and now. Steve didn’t let his arm go. “Stop doing that,” he growled.

“We need to know their progress,” Tony said. Perhaps the worst thing was how _tired_ he sounded.

“We won’t need to know anything if you kill yourself,” Steve retorted.

“Extremis is operational—”

“It’s hurting you—”

“I don’t care!” Tony snapped, glaring at Steve.

“I do!” Steve yelled.

The following silence was very loud. They stared at each other. Now that Tony wasn’t using Extremis anymore, Steve could see how bloodshot his eyes were. He needed rest and a hospital, if only anyone knew what to do with Extremis.

Steve could at least make sure Tony got to sleep a bit tonight. He offered Tony the wet cloth, a silent apology for yelling, and Tony let himself fall back on the mattress, putting the cloth on his forehead.

“The receptionist was just tweeting with friends. We’re a few days ahead of Osborn,” he said quietly. “But he’s close to getting Carol, and it’s my fault.”

“I was always against SHRA,” Steve said. Tony flinched again.

_Sure, kick the lying man_ , Steve thought, but he was angry, _so angry_ at how Tony had disregarded everything because he always knew better, didn’t he, the genius futurist, and now he was disregarding his own health (as if that was new), and Steve couldn’t do anything to fix it. Hiding like this was never his style, but he didn’t have a choice, and it didn’t help calm him down.

“Just try to rest,” Steve said at the same time as Tony said, “I’m sorry.”

Steve sighed. He reached down to touch Tony reassuringly, but as he did, he realised Tony was shaking all over. Steve pressed his hand to Tony’s cheek and sure enough, he was burning up.

They were running out of time.

Steve pulled his hoodie off over his head and gave it to Tony without a word.

“You’ll get cold,” Tony protested.

“Just put it on,” Steve said.

Tony sighed. He wiped his face with the cloth and put it away. Then he pushed himself back up, just enough to put the hoodie on. He seemed even thinner in it, drowning in the material, but he wrapped his arms around himself and made a content noise. “Warm,” he admitted, weirdly meek after his earlier outburst. But then, he hadn’t had much strength to start with.

Steve sat next to him, closer than was strictly necessary. He was tired too, tired of fighting with Tony and tired of being afraid for him. He found Tony’s hand and took it in his, their fingers fitting perfectly together.

Tony gave him a surprised look, his eyes shining bright. Steve lay down, pulling Tony on top of himself, keeping him close with his other hand wrapped around Tony’s waist. “Just rest,” Steve repeated. Tony relaxed into his chest, slowly.

Steve wanted to kiss him, but not when he was this sick, and he wanted to tell him it’d be alright, but not when it was a lie.

“I got you,” he settled on saying.

“I know,” Tony answered.


End file.
